Reality Bounds
by RobBonner22
Summary: When Voldemort discovers a device that transcends realities, will the war be tipped in the favor of the Dark Lord? HPvarious throughout(reduced first chapter length)
1. The Beginning

Chapter 1)

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The Arrival

__

The room was medium-sized, room enough to fit in the throne on which he sat, a fireplace which housed the ornate hearth rug where Nagini was peacefully resting, and other such luxurious comforts. From his position at the throne, he utilized the intimidation easily granted by his red slits to gaze expectantly at his servants, the group that kneeled respectfully, albeit nervously, at his feet. The collection was of men and one woman, and his menacing orbs bored down into. All shivered involuntarily, not daring to look at the man, no, creature in which they were in willing servitude of. Instead, they chose to gaze at his attention-grabbing silver and green throne, as if the serpents that bedecked it could offer them comfort; they were met with disappointment.

"_What have you brought for me? Rodolphus?" The question rung in the air, slicing through the thick tension emitted from the monster's nervous followers. The servant who was invited to speak stole a few anxious glances at his companions before clearing his throat, preparing to articulate his findings._

__

"My Lord, the potent force you have spoken of sensing over the past couple of days has been discovered by your followers as requested." He paused for a moment before continuing at Lord Voldemort's impatient nod. "I assure you, My Lord, that what we recovered, however, is nothing short of shocking-"

"Do not make me wait, Lestange." The cold, chilling command was nothing short of a menacing order. The servant's uneasy gulp resonated through the dank chamber quite easily.

"Please forgive me, My Lord. We will present you with our findings this instant, as you commanded." Rodolphus Lestrange and the rest of the Death Eaters stepped to the side quickly - in sure fear of their master's wrath - allowing a clear path to the door.

Abruptly, the double doors that served as an entrance to the chamber opened. A young man, looking not a day over 17, waltzed inside the room, before doing the unthinkable; he locked eyes with the red-eyed demon himself, Lord Voldemort. His jet-black hair and handsome looks reminded The Dark Lord strongly of someone in his past, someone he seemingly could not place. The boy swept into the chamber with a familiar grace only he himself could have possessed, and this alone unnerved the previously unshakable Dark Lord.

"Ah, well, you sure do look different." his casual tone further alarmed Voldemort. "But I sense your power; it is great, almost as good as myself and the others."

If he had any, Lord Voldemort, the most feared warlock of the century, would have raised an inquiring eyebrow at his followers and the arrogant young individual who stood before him. The servants looked petrified, maybe for the boy who looked upon their master as if he was beneath him, or maybe just for themselves for bringing him here. Before the Dark Lord could curse either them or the rude and obnoxious teen into sure oblivion, the teen made a beckoning motion and whistled loudly, causing Nott to flinch at the sudden vibration. Stepping through the ornate entrance of his hall, three wizards studied their surroundings before locking eyes with Voldemort as the boy had done just moments before. As farfetched as it sounded, these wizards appeared even uglier than the snake-faced Lord Voldemort, who currently sat shocked atop of his throne. Some of the appearances The Dark Lord recognized as the next transformation in power after his own, some of which he was either wary to go through with or he was dispelled before he could try. The boy was right. He could sense the almost palpable strength resonating off the warlocks.

These creatures were indeed powerful.

The boy, who had been intently observing the entrance with a smirk on his handsome face, turned back to the shell-shocked Dark Lord.

"Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Tom Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort. He is Lord Voldemort, and he is also Lord Voldemort."

The silence that met the boy's words was deafening. 'Rodolphus was correct,' the Dark Lord noted silently, as this was indeed most unexpected. After all, who in the world would expect four copies of themselves to appear out of thin air?

"Pleased to meet you. What is the meaning of your visit?" His calm tones did not betray the bewilderment he felt and slight tinge of... he couldn't be sure as he hadn't felt it in so long, but it felt a lot like, dare he say it...

Fear 

A yellow-eyed creature who Lord Voldemort identified as the result of the Ritual of Tadlacus answered the posed question.

"To take over the world, of course." Instead of his own chilling tones, this Voldemort's tone was booming and powerful, laced with an inner fire. Tom's face mysteriously closed up at their mission. He was hiding something; The Dark Lord recognized a necessity to be wary with that one. "With our combined power, any challenge that once presented itself as notable to us would be speedily eliminated. Potter and Dulmbedore," once this pair of names were mentioned, all five Voldemorts snarled venomously, " were becoming extremely powerful in my own reality. On the brink of death, young Tom here," he motioned to the young variant of themselves who only nodded in acknowledgement, "appeared and rescued me from imminent death. He relayed his plan of ultimate domination. I could not refuse his brilliant_ offer." Everyone smirked at this, sans the uneasy servants, of course..._

--------------------------

The first thing noticeable was the peculiar silence.

Two whole weeks into the summer holidays, silence reigned on the now desolate and deserted-looking avenue of Privet Drive. Not a whiff of the regular noise that habitually oversaw the activities of the street was present; There was not any sign of the usual boisterous children roaming freely along the sidewalks, nosy and gossiping house-wives meticulously manicuring their lawns, nor any type of indication that the typical rushing vehicles were amongst these streets in the beginning weeks of summer. Only perfect quiet effectively replaced this usual normalcy.

Among all the other addresses, this abnormal oddity was especially true in house Number 4. Inside, slowly awaking from a nightmare-plagued slumber; a particular thin raven-haired young man steadily arose from a pitiful excuse for a cot inside the smallest bedroom in the residence. Sweat dripping intensely from his pale, now rather shiny, forehead, the dreadful visions of death was still present in the boy's mind. He was only spared of it's wrath today, surprisingly. The young man's eyes were as close to piercing, deep emeralds as one could aspire to get; the closest thing comparable to his untidy, shoulder length hair would be a sweeping, jet-black veil, framing his thin waxy face. His hair, usually short, had grown uncontrollably in the past weeks. His skinny build disclosed his current meager eating habits quite effectively, leaving him with that look that practically screamed negligence. Wiping the sleep from his baggy, tired, and dull eyes, he slowly retrieved and slipped on his glasses from his nightstand. The nightmare of two days ago still rung in his head; A man writhing and shrieking on the ground under the watchful gaze of ominous red slits continually repeated as if on some VCR inside of his head, imprinting the memory successfully; the boy took it as if managing with horrific visions of torture were routine procedures.

Sadly, this was quite accurate. Lying back down on his bed, the one deemed Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, analyzed his summer situation for what seemed like the hundredth time only this week. Barely a mere two weeks into his dreaded stay at the Dursleys' home, that seemingly dragged on like years, he was bored rigged to say the least. His only surviving family members had taken the Order's daunting intimidation tactics to heart, it seemed. They did not even acknowledge him in the slightest (give or take a few requests to pass the salt).

It was mildly disturbing.

In his early years he would have given even his most prized possession for such tranquility at the Dursleys', but he had to admit he was starting to _miss_ being screamed at. Even being assigned house-work to complete sounded pretty inviting, hell, anything to disturb the dreary and monotonous atmosphere that ruled the residence with an iron fist . The restless teen had come to discover over the past weeks that the feeling of going to somewhere where you are noticed all of time to being ignored and overlooked was more than slightly disconcerting.

Sitting up from the cot, letting his threadbare blanket fall off him without conflict, Harry's impassive expression divulged nothing as he uninterestedly stared into the open space. Inwardly, however, the frightful clouds of misery governed the despaired teen's every action, his every thought. He paid no mind as the beaming gleams of sunshine crept in through his bedroom window, bringing entrance to a new day. He paid no thought to the insistent shouting of his Aunt Petunia, constantly notifying him of the prepared state of breakfast. He barely noticed anything, except the adamant voice in his head proclaiming his many faults and his rather sizeable guilt. The voice was right. Shallow representations of its effectiveness came in inch long slashing marks, layering his now almost skeletal arms from wrist to elbow.

'_I _have_ to do it, damnit_!' It was to punish himself - for failing. For killing the only thing reminiscent of a Guardian or parent. For murdering Sirius.

Just the mere thought of his late godfather's name brought a certain stinging to his eyes and a specific throb in his chest. The urge to eat immediately abandoned him, fortifying the impulse to ignore the ear splitting shouts treated to him by his aunt. The sun grinned delightedly towards him from its place in the sky, but the suffocating clutch of depression would not permit him to share none of its ecstasy, relate to none of it's bliss. It didn't feel right doing so to Harry, with Sirius dead, his killer breathing, quite alive, still vividly enjoying her horrible existence.

Harry's blood rose several degrees at the sheer thought of _her_. Bellatrix Lestrange. The bitch that killed her own cousin, her own _blood,_ in such a cold unfeeling manner - laughing all the while. Harry knew one thing: Despite his disadvantages in power, he would destroy her. Despite his small amount of experience in battle he held, he would kill that bitch. He vowed he would destroy not only her, but also those among her ranks, and finally Voldemort, The Dark Lord himself as he was destined to do. He would do it all by himself.

His usually glittering bright emerald orbs now cold as ice as his thoughts once again focused on the prophecy, the young man stood and approached his bedroom window. The prophecy had become his tormenter, destined to hang over his head until he finally got around to doing Fate's bidding. Running away had crossed his mind before it was scrapped distastefully to the side. Something deep inside him, most likely his Gryffindor nobility, would not allow him to even entertain the thought.

Surveying the avenue from his second story window, he found himself searching for a sign that indicated the Order of the Phoenix's intrusive and bothersome presence, the personal guards of his own private hell. He had repeated this particular pastime for the whole two weeks now, and it still managed to infuriate him on each occasion. The young man couldn't grasp how they believed they could dominate his life and oppress him in such a way. He had wanted to kill Dumbledore after the letter he had sent. How dare he even think he held the authority to tell him that he is not _allowed_ do anything or go anywhere that was outside the house?_ 'Isn't that particular option for me to decide?_ _Why is every damn person in the bloody world dying for power over my existence? How dare they watch over me like I am some irresponsible mutt, continually itching for trouble at every fucking stop!'_

Oddly enough, Harry found himself somewhat agreeing with his eccentric description of himself. It was true in a sense once he gave it some thought, especially considering his _saving-people thing_. Harry tried to take his mind off this troubling, slightly unhinged train of thought

It didn't work.

Finally spotting a magenta-haired woman jogging half-heartedly around the block, evidently exercising, his anger returned full force. It hovered and surrounded him like a growing ball of energy, showing no signs of abating. Harry half expected the young woman to drop dead at any given moment if the daggers he were throwing her were any indication.

His rage, however, was not entirely intended for the woman he was intently observing, nor was it intended for the dog walker (Snape), the enthusiastic biker (Remus), or any of the others. It was actually directed mostly at the man, his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Although his manipulative objectives were highlighted only for the briefest of moments, it still managed to shock and madden Harry to no end. Who the _fuck _did he think he was? His controlling ways even now combined with the fact that he kept him in the dark last year made him want to scream. Better yet, break the old man's legs, and watch that infuriating twinkle dim out, making those blue eyes cringe in pain while stomping him into oblivion...

Well, maybe that was a bit much...

Maybe not. The bastard deserved it as far as this frustrated teen was concerned.

Watching the woman he knew to be Nymphadora Tonks run back and forth set his mind into motion, thinking about the future; How was he, a below average wizard, supposed to battle the most feared and abhorred wizard of the age without the proper ammunition and stand a chance of triumphing? He ran a hand through his untidy mane unconsciously as the wheels of his mind began to turn. Harry couldn't, _wouldn't_ rely on the Order's protection for any longer. That was already a decided matter. It wouldn't serve him any good in the final battle to run away and be protected like some whining, petulant, baby. So how was he, a mere _child_, supposed to avenge his godfather without the sufficient amount of power and knowledge? In fact, he was sure Hermione could give him a run for his money in magical dueling, let alone the infamous power of The Dark Lord, or even that bitch Lestrange.

A determined glint developed in those now indifferent, stormy emerald orbs as this thought crossed his as of late problematical mind. Knowledge was power, and power would be of great assistance in his plight against the Dark Lord. He knew exactly where he would get this aid from. Hermione would have smiled at the thought.

Books. It sounded like the best damn idea he had came up with this summer.

Looking around to make sure Tonks was the only Order member on duty, he found himself satisfied. It would be almost too easy to creep past whoever was on duty later on if they were alone. In the safety and comfort of his invisibility cloak, it would be simple to summon The Knight Bus, which would then easily transport him to the Diagon Alley.

Staying put was not an option. The damn order, no, that damn old fool rather, would not allow him to venture out his aunt's protection if he had his say. But he had to. It simply commanded to be done.

Fuck whatever the Order had to say.

Curtailing his angry thoughts, the door to his bedroom banged open startlingly with an audible thud. His Aunt Petunia, armed with an intimidating snarl that could make even that bastard Snape cower in absolute terror, stood in his doorway. Harry let loose a noticeable sigh, immediately regretting ignoring her insistent yelling, quietly noting her menacing expression along with the almost maniacal glint in her eyes.

"I SAID BREAKFAST IS READY NOW, POTTER! GET YOUR LAZY ARSE UP!"

-----------------------------


	2. The Breakout

A.N.- Special Thanks to Cygnus Crux for his assistance and promotion of my story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

-

Chapter 2 - **The Breakout**

"Therefore, it is concluded. Our young Harry is not to know, for it is in all of our best interest that he remains at his relatives' residency and out of harm's destructive path. Assigned members remain seated to overview your duties tonight. That is all, the rest of you may leave."

Nods from most of the members of the Order of the Phoenix met Dumbledore's declaration as they all prepared to depart from the meeting. But one Remus Lupin did not move, even though he was not apart of the group requested to remain.

He continued sitting because of an intense train of thought had a coil-like grip on his as of late complicated mind. The death of his best friend had struck him where it hurt the most. His heart.

"Remus? Did you have any concerns you wished to speak to me about?" Dumbledore smooth tones interrupted his thoughts, and Remus jerked as his attention was brought back to reality, garnering strange glances from the other occupants in the room.

"You can't leave Harry out of Sirius's Will Reading!" Remus's hysterical shout interrupted all of the chatter between the remaining members. Everyone's attention now primarily focused on the defiant werewolf and their illustrious leader, who currently sported a confused expression. Suddenly, the bewilderment plastered on the old headmaster's face hardened into a kind of steely determination. Remus knew that the conniving Head of the Order was willing to do anything in order to assure the smooth running of his plans, and almost definitely a serious confrontation loomed ahead.

"Remus, we have already discussed this and have collectively agreed this is the best plan of action. We must assure Harry's safe-"

"And that's it! Just his safety, huh Dumbledore? What about his happiness? What about what he wants to do, damnit, what about him! Don't you get it Albus? Sirius has _died_ because you have left Harry out of something that concerned him! Do you wish to repeat that experience?" Remus's tone had become progressively louder throughout the duration of his reply, and now he breathed heavily. Dumbledore was astounded, and so was the rest of the remaining members of the Order; Not once had any of the members confronted Albus at this level concerning one of his strategies.

"Remus, I know you consider you must protect Harry, but that's what we are attempting to do. We only have Harry's welfare as our number one priority. You must agree, Remus, wouldn't you rather him alive if not a little disgruntled?" Remus barely listened to Dumbledore's retort to his outburst. He had made up his mind already; He was going to at inform Harry of the will reading despite Dumbledore's orders or his beliefs.

-

The sun's departure marked the night's arrival almost immediately later that evening. Harry could have sworn the darkness gave the impression of being dimmer than ordinary, leaving it with a _sinister_ feeling, for lack of a better word. It was an ominous dark, the kind of inky blackness that swam around you, leaving you intoxicated with paranoia, the type of feeling which left you looking over your shoulder at the slightest movement. Shrugging off the foreboding sensation that ran through him, he steadily crept out the back door to Number Four. Harry slipped on his invisibility cloak, making his way down the street, almost unconsciously towards Magnoila Crescent. Despite his earlier burst of anger, Harry's indecisiveness from the past two weeks was beginning to return. Was he making the right decision by sneaking out and leaving his protection behind? Was he in way over his head, he thought as both his determination and confidence showed signs of ebbing away, and should he just sit back and let the order handle it? His paces began to slow as the indecision tried to take back reign over his mind.

As he was just passing house Number Three, the rustling of the bushes positioned on the lawn of Number Two indicated the Order's meddling presence, but Harry felt confident in the confines of the protective cloak. However, his confidence was mistaken.

"Harry." It was not a question but a request for attention, as if the person behind the bushes were already certain that Harry was standing in front of them.

__

'Damn! Not even out the house and already busted' Harry turned around, prepared to see the reprimanding visage of the all-knowing Mad-Eye Moody, and was totally shocked to see Remus Lupin standing in front of him.

"Remus!" He whispered, before taking off the cloak, realizing the gig was up. But Harry Potter was not known to go out without a fight. The two wizards stood in silence before the older man broke the calm with a reprimanding tone. Harry grimaced.

"Harry, what you're about to do tonight-"

"Lupin, I don't want to hear it," Harry's tone cut through Remus's words like a machete through the softest butter. Harry's anger was attempting to show face again. The werewolf backed up, as if Harry's words had somehow physically harmed him. "You people are trying to control and manipulate my life and I am damn sick of it! It's my bloody life! I do not have a guardian, and if I want to go to Diagon Alley, I should be able to go! Not ask one of you for permission." He spat on the ground before finishing. "I just don't care anymore!"

He turned to leave before he was grabbed and turned around again. Remus eyes were shining, and Harry started to regret his cruel words before remembering the anguish that was his summer, that was his life. His cold, lifeless eyes expressed his sympathy plain and simple.

"Harry, I did not come here to scold you. I wanted to tell you about-" Here he stopped, continuing only after closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I wanted to tell you about Sirius's will." Harry flinched at his name, but nodded, shocked by this piece of news, for Remus to continue. Not even a month after Sirius, Dumbledore and his order of idiots were trying to withhold information that concerned him again. "I was forbidden to inform you about it, as per instructions from Dumbledore. But I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I had come to retrieve you from Privet Drive, but you were not there when I had come inside. I assume Ron or Hermione has told you about the will?"

"No. Those bloody pricks I call friends did not tell me squat." The werewolf's eyes darkened at this, but he continued nonetheless.

Betrayal. Harry knew that Remus had been around that side of town before.

"Ah, don't be too angry with them. Dumbledore saw to it that you would not know, up to the point that he prevented them from owling you. He said you could not know because it was too dangerous for you to leave your protection wards, and if you knew you would sneak out. At least he was right about something." He said the last bit with a small smile that Harry reciprocated.

But Harry's smile didn't last long as he took in what the last true Marauder had just said. "He prevented them from owling me?" At Remus's sad nod, Harry's indecision was hastily thrown to the side. A different type of rage, a kind of controlled and calm anger, filled him, filled him with the confidence and determination he needed to fulfill what he needed to do.. "Remus, I need to do this. I have to prepare to defeat Voldemort." A pained look flashed so fast across Remus's face Harry barely noticed it. A period of silence reigned as the two men stared pensively at each other as Remus took in the young man's words. The two men stared at each other, seemingly oblivious to the world surrounding them. Owls hooted and crickets creaked, but the two wizards didn't make a move.

"No." Remus's face displayed no emotion with his words. In fact, Harry barely saw his lips move.

"What do you mean no, Remus?" Harry's shocked reply didn't garner any further emotions from the werewolf. "Don't do this, Harry. Go inside and I will try to convince Dumbledore to allow you to go to the Will Reading. I will return for you if I manage to convince him." Harry nodded solemnly before turning around as if to return to Number Four.

Abruptly, Harry turned back around towards a confused Remus, darted forward and grasped his forearms before shoving him back with all his might.

"Harry, what are you-" "_Stupefy" _Remus's body collapsed soundlessly on the pavement.

Harry dropped the wand, Remus's wand, from his hands before intently observing his handiwork. He honestly did not think his attack would work, as first of all he was not entirely sure Remus kept a wand holster on his forearms. Breathing a heavy sigh, he picked up his cloak and continued past the stunned body of the last marauder.

-

Arriving on Magnolia several moments later, the familiar throbbing of his chest, the itching of his arms to be sliced open, and the stinging of his eyes all returned. This place reeked of something distinct in his memories...

__

Sirius.

It reeked of his vibrant and driven personality, his determined attitude; it was practically full of his Godfather's friendly essence. Looking into the darkened alley where he first glimpsed one Sirius Black, the distraught young man could have sworn an intense pair of striking blue eyes were trained on him, impaling him with their forceful, _accusing_, gaze. Impaling him with the forceful and accusing gaze of one Sirius Black. It nearly caused a breakdown where he stood. Harry longed for his knife more than ever, the urge to cut becoming more and more difficult to manage as the guilty tears plunged from his eyes.

After the moments he took to regain himself, Harry wiped his shining emerald green eyes. He wouldn't cry anymore. Merlin as his witness, that was a vow he would lay his life down to keep. Peering down the seemingly abandoned street, he looked for a sign of anything approaching. Noticing nothing, he flattened his bangs over his ever-present famous scar before raising his wand, effectively summoning the emergency mode of transportation for Wizards. One thought ran through his mind as the sudden BANG, no longer startling, brought entrance to the purple triple-decker bus.

'I'm doing this for you, Sirius.'

-

"Yer' stop, Mister Thomas sir."

Recognizing his phony alias, Harry stood and made his exit, unconsciously flattening his long bangs over his scar once more as he passed the pimply attendant of the Knight Bus.

"G' night, Dean."

As the purple bus zoomed away in a flash, Harry noticed the grubby-looking pub that was his destination. The Leaky Cauldron looked just the same as his last visit here: painstakingly mundane and plain. Pushing through the doors after putting his dad's old cloak back on, he was greeted with a full house that, after a glance to see if it was someone of significance, stayed committed to various activities, as if doors admitted invisible patrons at this pub all the time. Useless people. Wizards never suspected anything, Harry was just beginning to realize. They took everything for granted, like the foolish people they were.

The teen found that Tom, with his sparkling eyes and that welcoming smile, appeared just the same from his position behind the bar as he had on his last visit. Abruptly Harry's heart almost stopped.

Tom was staring directly at him.

Harry pulled the hem of his cloak, exposing less of himself as he passed the usually kind bartender. For his efforts, he received a wink and a smile.

'_Damn. He's probably telling that big nosed bastard right now. This was not how it was supposed to go.'_

Moving through the busy bar quicker than ever, he tried to pull out the reason for this rebellious jaunt into wizarding society; It seemed to be tangled deeply somewhere in the back of his nervous mind. He knew he had the money to expense this trip, but did he have the guts to go along as well?

'_Now or never,' _He firmly declared as he found himself staring at the barrier to his destination, as if it held the solution for his decision.

Tapping the specific bricks correctly, he waited for a moment for the magnificence that made up Diagon Alley to reveal itself to him, already on edge. Paranoia caused him to expect Remus to swoop down unexpectedly and grab him at any given moment. When the wall finally opened, Harry flinched involuntarily, still expecting the unexpected. The teen found that the sight was still wondrous, almost as amazing as when he had first laid his curious young eyes on it, with it's bustling streets and scenic storefronts. Harry sighed forlornly at the thought. Those innocent days were over.

For good. Too much has happened now.

Shaking those gloomy thoughts, he felt his feet subconsciously lead him towards the snowy white building of Gringotts. Heading towards the bank, Harry finally became caught up in the elation of what he was doing. He was undeniably nervous, but on the other hand unquestionably excited. He was _sneaking out_, right from under the Order's crooked, large, meddling nose, and doing what he had to do to fulfill his rightful destiny. He allowed the first real smile, no _grin, _albeit shaky,to envelope his usually glum and gaunt features from under the cloak.

Approaching the shimmering bronze doors, he noted the threatening crude poem without the same apprehension he usually regarded it with while still taking in the enormous and impressive building. Pushing through the doors after carefully removing his cloak, he took in the interior of the normally busy Wizard's Bank.

It was almost empty. This confused Harry for a moment before he took account the time, realizing people probably didn't want to risk attack. Death Eaters. He didn't know what had been going on in the wizarding world, and his limited access to the news had been disabled (His aunt had strictly forbade him from listening to the news from outside as soon as he entered the house this year), but he had hoped that this blind and foolish civilization had finally opened their eyes. Harry continued into the building, all the more determined to do what he had to do, no trace of the past nervousness he held visible. Messing up people's lives, even in minor degrees like manipulating their schedule, would not be tolerated. He knew-

His thoughts were instantly cut short as a particularly menacing goblin cleared its throat, glaring at him from his desk's high position.

"How may I assist you, Mister...?"

"Potter, sir." He replied, ignoring the significant glance he gave to the locks shielding his scar from view.

"I would like to-"

"You are early." The goblin interrupted, fixing him with an inquisitive olive green gaze. "What do you mean sir? Early for what, sir?" Harry inquired courteously, a confused eyebrow raised.

"You are an hour early for the reading of the will and testament of one Sirius Orion Black."

"I am aware of this, and I plan to return in a hour, but first I would like to withdraw from my vault."

"Key."

Sliding his key over to the goblin, it examined it briefly before calling for another one of it's kind. The goblin introduced as Harkrat lead the frustrated teen towards the carts. After a hectic cart ride, which didn't seem to affect Harkrat as it most effectively did the determined, now nauseous young man, they found themselves at Harry's savings fund.

"Here we are, Mr. Potter. Key, please." Whisking Harry out of his thoughts, the teen handed over the desired object to Harkrat. In mere moments, the gold of his vault was revealed to Harry, who scooped quite a few handfuls to place in his pouch. Once done, Harry clambered back into the cart, ignoring the curious expression Harkrat held.

"I was just wondering why don't you visit the Potter Vault? It is available to you- you are over 13, aren't you?" Harkrat asked.

Harry feared his eyebrows had outright disappeared by now as Harkrat finally broke the uncomfortable silence. One more shocking bit of news and Harry was going to combust from the amount of anger bubbling up, growing stronger every moment, inside of him. '_Why am I just being informed of things tonight? Were people purposefully attempting to hide important stuff from me?'_

"I was not informed of its existence."

"Do you wish to go now, Mr. Potter?" Thinking it over, Harry declined but thanked Harkrat for the generous offer. He would definitely need to speak with Dumbledore.

Definitely.

-

"Is there a way I could gather money but keep from returning here over and over?" Harry found himself questioning the goblin that informed him of Sirius's will after another hectic cart ride. If there was a way to avoid rushing back to Gringotts every time he ran low on Galleons, it would be rather useful, allowing Harry to get things done much faster.

"Actually, yes. Have you ever stumbled upon a muggle object called a 'checkbook'?" At Harry's impatient nod, he continued. "Gringotts has their own 'checkbook', and it will charge automatically to your account. Another option, however, is the Gringotts Money Card. All you have to do is tap the card with your specific wand while thinking the appropriate amount towards the card, and the accurate amount will instantly be inside the accompanying money pouch that goes along with it. I, personally, believe the card is a greater investment, albeit a bit more expensive. Another option is-"

"I'll take the money card, goblin; I don't have time for a brochure!"

Huffy at being interrupted and yelled at, the goblin immediately went straight to the point.

"Would you like to charge it to Potter Vault or your Savings, Mr. Potter?"

Biting down the rage at the mention of the Potter Vault, the teen chose to charge it to his savings fund. The Money Pouch given was blood red with a silver trimming, matching the rather expensive license bearing the Gringotts emblem that was the Money Card. Harry didn't expect less for it's costly price. Not bothering to thank the goblin for its assistance, Harry finally departed Gringotts, slightly richer and slightly more knowledgeable.

He left an entirely different person.

-

The nervousness returned once his anger had at long last subsided. But Harry trudged on despite this, making his way towards the renowned bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, a steady scowl on his scrawny features. Crossing the threshold, he didn't bother with the cloak. Fuck whoever saw him. Harry found, unlike Gringotts, people were still inside the shop, bustling around the store searching for a good buy. Looking around the quite large bookshop, several titles caught his eye, ranging from, "_Improving your Transfiguration", 1001 Curses and Jinxes useful in Dueling", "Transfiguration in Dueling", _(Harry thought back to Dumbledore's duel with Voldemort)_ "500 Useful Dueling Tactics Involving Charms",_ and several more. Gathering a cart, Harry began his shopping.

In the Transfiguration section, Harry decided to purchase books beneficial towards dueling, also grabbing a few which detailed the intricate art of the subject. _Transfiguration for Dummies, So You Want to Become...an Animagus, Using Transfiguration,_ all appeared promising. Grabbing these and more titles that caught his interest, Harry continued to the next isle.

Charms presented excellent titles dedicated to the subject and useful charms for various scenarios. The tiny Professor Flitwick was in for a surprise in the form of one Harry Potter this year, Harry mused determinedly. Selecting about a dozen books from this section, Harry continued on despite the odd looks he was receiving probably because of the amount of books he possessed.

In his dilemma against the Dark Lord, too many books, too much knowledge and power, was not a problem. So after adding several magical theory volumes, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, DADA, and, at long last, Potion titles, Harry was ready for checkout.

"How may I help...Oh my! You're going to be awfully busy this summer, aren't you?" The pretty blonde cashier stated in awe with a charming smile.

"Yes. How much?" The curt tone utilized by Harry wiped the smile from the clerk's face almost immediately.

"Um, these 45 books will amount to, 423 Galleons, and 13 sickles." She said, a slight flush on her cheeks gathered from Harry's brisk tone. Thinking about the amount specified while tapping the Money Card with his wand as instructed, it revealed the authenticity of the goblin's word.

"Thank you."

-

Various hisses, screeches, and hoots amiably welcomed him as Harry entered the Magical Menagerie. Strangely, he had felt like he was being called here, attracted by some unknown force. He attentively glanced around the room, observantly noting the different species that ranged from prowling rats to squealing cats, hooting owls to snoozing toads. Most of the owls, located on a wall behind the cashier's desk, and other species, locked in cages throughout the store, were slumbering on their respective perches or inside various confines, but a few were staring intently at him or yowling obnoxiously, overtly glaring at him. Discovering that what he desired lay in the farthest corner, almost as if the store were ashamed of housing such animals, Harry headed towards the cages that held the serpents.

Finally reaching his destination, He glanced over his limited selection, which comprised of three scaly reptiles who were peacefully resting inside their individual enclosures. He was obviously close to his target, as the call was so strong Harry could feel it; he could feel the steady rhythm as if it was his own thumping heartbeat, pounding deep inside his chest. One particular eye catching serpent was a large luminous canary yellow with scarlet blood red spots decorated over its tail, at about four inches thick and one and a half feet long. The second snake he notice was a scarring red, while the third snake nearly caused the teen to jump out of his skin: The three-headed creature in the cage was a Runespoor.

Glancing at the "JUST CAME IN!" sign, Harry noted his luck. The dark creature had no business in a store located in Diagon Alley, a notorious light shopping strip. Harry quietly observed the snake's description. It was quite unusual, though, as all three heads of the snake were a deep jet black like the darkest of nights, the thickest of shadows. A thin green line encircled it's enormous body, instead of striping it, circling the snake from head to tail, making it look all the more exotic. From his CoMC book, he had thought the Runespoor was supposed to be orange and black, but he guessed there could be exceptions. It's eyes peeled open abruptly, revealing those familiar startling, striking emerald pits so like his own which practically made Harry's decision for him. Peculiarly, barely noticeable loops curiously encircled her eyes. It felt like the 1 foot-long, 2 inch thick snake was calling to him, urging him to purchase it as his eyes closed once more. It was creepy.

Looking towards the cashier, he found the teen wizard asleep, lazily sprawled on his desk, dead to the world. Approaching and shaking him roughly without mind, the clerk started with a yelp, before blushing in humiliation. He mumbled useless apologies before inquiring on his purchases.

"Are you sure about your purchases, sir? That snake is a Runespoor, very poisonous and dark." The clerk continually glanced nervously at the resting three-headed beast, gasping when Harry answered in the affirmative.

After purchasing his new snake, who he named Hailey after the cashier told him it was a girl (and the similarities to Harry), Harry decided it was time to finally delve himself fully into his new persona, his new life. He had come to terms with the decision. He was going to be on his own now.

It was time to enter Knocturn Alley.

-


	3. A Trip to Knocturn Alley

The whole scene was polar opposites with Diagon Alley.

From the grimy alleyways to the suspicious looking clientele, Knocturn Alley practically screamed shifty to him. Ignoring the impulse to turn away and run, Harry continued, still checking out the sites and avoiding the locals. It wasn't as simple as it seemed.

"What I got in this cauldron you want to have-"

"Come back, man, this text will grant you immortality-"

"Are you bloody nuts? This is the deal of a lifetime-"

Turning down shady propositions from what looked like the most untrustworthy individuals he ever saw in his 15 years was difficult, mainly because of the sheer number of them. It seemed like the narrow and dusty alleyways were overflowing with the various salesmen. They seemed to sense his uneasiness and it attracted them like flies to light and bees to honey. The hood shielding his face only did so much to conceal his evident nervousness.

Dodging a fast approaching hag by sidestepping into a faceless store, Harry slid through aged, filthy double doors to find himself in a place he was sure he had no business in. He didn't see the title of the shop, but the sickly colored potion fumes, the dusty, dark looking volumes, and the old shopkeeper staring at him intently did nothing to ease and calm his discomfort.

Harry studied his surroundings. From the various bones suspended from the ceiling, that overpowering rotting meat smell emitted from the various cauldrons, and the gleam in the clerk's glinting cerulean eyes, Harry could tell this, though quite apprehensively, was the shop he had counted on existing when he headed down here to the alley he was forbidden to enter since he was first introduced into the wizarding world. And he had just stumbled inside by mistake.

Taking a glance at the numerous tomes positioned around the dusty and grimy store, many of the book titles peaked his interest, while quite a few he figured he would have to know in order to best a Dark Lord, even if he would have to hurl a couple of times when reading him.

"Welcome to my shop, young one? How may I help you?" The clerk asked calmly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Er, what do you sell here?"

"Numerous things, my boy. Books, potions, wands, anything you might need that you would not want the ministry nosing into." The old man's raspy reply was calm and inviting, surprisingly, even though his intentions were illegal and seedy. The books Harry spied ranged from the subjects that were taught at Hogwarts to some that were obviously not. Harry gave in to the urge of curiosity that was human nature.

"What type of books? And wands?"

His smile was more of a grin after Harry's reply. He approached Harry closer, and ignoring his first instinct to step back, Harry held his ground. The man's grisly breath was upon him, sinking into his nose, as Harry found himself in the unpleasant position of being so close to the clerk. His silver tresses, tied in a ponytail in the back, attracted his attention as the man oddly just stood there, staring into his eyes. What he was doing only clicked when the man had left and returned with several books, a wand, and a potion in his hand. The smile was upon him as Harry's confusion showed plainly on his face. He had obviously read his mind, most likely utilizing Legilimency to gauge what Harry wanted.

"You wanted books concerning the dark arts, offensive and defensive magic, and magical abilities. You also half-wanted another wand, and a way to block the Ministry from knowing you were performing magic."

Harry stood dumbfounded at the clerk's announcement. He was _exactly_ right.

"How the hell did you know that?" Harry found himself asking before he could stop to consider his manners. Snape had told him that Legilimency could only gauge feelings and memories, not _exactly_ what he was thinking.

"I, my boy, am a mind reader. You can find out more about this talent in one of the tomes I have given you. Okay, the concoction is to block the Ministry's tracking effect, and can be taken at any time. I can determine without reading your mind that you do not wish to hear the subtleties of the brew," Harry grinned sheepishly; He was right again! "For the wand, it is made Elm with a rare basilisk's tooth core. The books pertain to the subjects you requested. The total overall price for the potion, the wand, and the books will be 2,370 Galleons.

Harry, his jaw still on the floor at the man's knowledge and efficiency, paid the fee unquestioningly. Thanking the man for his helpful assistance as he departed to the back room, he turned to leave only to begin another round of hag dodging, his skills hindered by the heaviness of his purchases.

-

He stood in a deserted alley mere feet away from Gringotts, captured in the shadows and also invisible to the eye thanks to his father's cloak. His jaunt to Knocturn Alley had aided him tremendously; He now had the weapons (well, in this case books) that explained his enemy's power, a new and startlingly powerful wand (Elm with a strong Basilisk Fang core), as well as that infuriating age restriction off his magic.

At least he hoped he had all those things. One thing he learned from his experience in Knocturn Alley was not to trust anyone but yourself, and even that was sketchy. How, Harry had pondered for several moments, had a simple, albeit disgusting, potion rid himself of the age restriction?

Needless to say, the evening, however, had been quite productive. His runespoor had awakened and was wound around his arm, but silent as a peep. He thought he heard two of the heads arguing, but in a quiet whisper, as if it knew the ramifications of being heard. It probably did.

He had remembered Sirius's will quite successfully, but he couldn't go in there. He couldn't force himself to go, even as hard as he tried. Although his blank expression divulged nothing as was normal these past two weeks, he was being torn apart inside. He felt like he was betraying the marauder's memory by not attending the reading of his will, but even more so did he not want to accept the fact that his beloved Godfather was dead. He choked back the tears as he remembered his promise.

Abruptly, an audible echo of footsteps approaching him and the discernible swishing of cloaks interrupted his thought process. He pulled on the hem of his own cloak, tightening it around his small 5'7 frame, inching his hand to clutch his wand as the footsteps became louder.

'_Granger!' _Hailey's multiple hisses startled him. He peered down at his baby snake, noting that if serpents could maintain facial expressions, all three heads would most definitely be scowling profusely

From the narrow alley he occupied he could easily spy 7 individuals approach the Gringotts stairs. Leading in front, making his blood boil, was his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. His lengthy beard white as snow and his insufferable eyes madly twinkling, he led Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Professor McGonagall, Ginny Weasley, her parents, along with...

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Behind Arthur and Molly Weasley was the spitting image of himself, save the large grin on his face and the feminine walk he possessed. The cold feeling of rage enveloped him, and he suppressed the evident urge to flee his hiding place and murder them all, or at least beat them into oblivion. It seemed to be an alluring option to the angry, utterly betrayed teen.

They laughed and made small talk, as if they were taking an evening stroll to the cinema. Tonks, impersonating Harry, conversed with a smiling Hermione, a laughing Ron and Ginny by their side. His best friends had destroyed any hope of him forgiving them for not sending him any letters. They had eliminated the close bond of friendship they had forged over the years that he had tried so hard to protect. The sight of Molly and Arthur Weasley following them, talking and low tones broke his heart; He had thought of them as parents, but surely even the dumbest guardian could guess that their child would want to attend their godfather's will.

Suddenly, he couldn't find the energy to be angry, as his watchful green gaze observed their retreating backs stroll happily into the snowy white building. The burning anger he had been experiencing off and on all night retreated, replaced by the depression he had been feeling for the past two weeks. His supposed friends, his supposed _family_, had betrayed him so cleanly he wasn't even angry. Just unbelievably, uncontrollably sad.

Abruptly, a strong hand clutched his shoulder, making his heart race as he swiftly swung around to face his attacker. Finally able to make out the figure in the shadows of the alley, he turned to see the serious face of the last real Marauder, Remus Lupin.

"Remus!" He murmured, before taking off the cloak, a sense of deja vu overtaking him. '_How did he get here'_, Harry wondered curiously. Looking into the older wizard's face, he saw no signs of the anticipated anger Harry expected him to feel, only a look of fatigue and sadness.

"That was a nice trick you pulled, Harry." Remus spoke solemnly, slowly like a dying man. "I should have expected it; James would have been proud."

Harry almost beamed before remembering the scene he witnessed in Snape's Pensive. The young boy wasn't too sure if he desired to be just like his father anymore. Remus had leaned against the wall, preferring just to gaze at the offspring of his two old friends with a depressing smile. Abruptly, he turned somber and looked sternly down at Harry

"I followed you, up until now. But Harry, I really must insist you go home." Remus stated sincerely.

"No, I mustn't. I have to finish my shopping, _as_ _normal_ _people do_, and then I will leave. You can accompany me, Remus, if you must insist. I was just going to Madam Malkin's to get rid of the hideous clothes that my relatives have forced upon me."

Harry, not bothering to hang back to wait for Remus's retort, retreated to the main walkway of Diagon Alley in the general direction of Madam Malkin's. Abruptly, several cracks and pops sounded off, instantly putting Harry and a following Remus on guard. Something inside them, most likely their identical Gryffindor hearts, would not permit room for crumbling in panic.

Nevertheless, Harry and Remus was hard pressed not to panic after a multitude of men clad in dark cloaks appeared amidst the cracks, pops, and the loud and hard throbbing of Harry's pounding heart.

-


	4. What In The Hell?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: The reason that reviewers have all these questions is because these questions were left intentionally in the first draft but I forgot to change them when I made the extremely large first chapter. Since the answers were spread around the extensive first chapter, hopefully you all will wait until later chapters to receive your answers.

As for the reviewer, Fragarach, I just hoped the readers would utilize reasoning to guess that since he is a werewolf his senses, which includes his sense of smell, would be greatly improved. God knows that is used often enough in fanfictions. It just happened to be of use in my story. Another reason could be that since Remus was James Potter's friend, he could see the subtle signs of one moving under an invisibility cloak. But you are right, as I should have pointed it out in the story, as some readers need to know such things or are new to Additionally, as I have told Cygnus Crux, everything in this fic is here for a reason, including the multiple voldemorts, hailey the snake hissing Granger, and Dumbledore's views on not telling Harry about the will. And as you said, Dumbledore doesn't deem it right to tell Harry as it is in his best interests. I remember having Remus discuss this with Harry. He doesn't want to Harry to know because he is afraid that Harry will try to breakout and endanger himself. He doesn't even want him to go with the order as a precaution.

OK, enough rambling and on with the story.

-

****

What The Hell?

'DAMN.'

Of all the days Harry had to get a surge of motivation and sneak off to Diagon Alley, it had to coincide with a Death Eater attack.

That was just dandy.

He dropped his purchases immediately. Whipping out the new wand he had purchased from the odd store in Knocturn Alley he hadn't got the name of, he ignored Remus's confused look as the power surged through him urgently as he held it in his hands. But instead of taking action, Harry was frozen with apprehension as he took in the sight. The cloaked figures had already started wreaking havoc around him, the sickly green light of death surrounding him, closing in on him. The storefronts were smashed already, and corpses were crumbling to the floor left and right. Harry couldn't move at all; at most, he would be hurling.

"We have to get out, NOW!" Remus exclaimed. He was cut off instantly another shriek went through the air.

It was Remus's own strangled cry.

Harry watched in numb horror as his father's last true best friend slowly crumbled to the ground with horrible, anguished, piercing screams.

There!

A Death Eater had suddenly appeared in front of him, laughing maniacally. His heart was going to do a back flip completely out of his chest at its rate. The Death Eater's wand was pointed directly at Remus, who was writhing on the ground, just beginning to tear the grayish hair out of his scalp. The sight was horrifying. Harry could not move as everything turned into slow motion. The look of pure delight and ecstasy on the Death Eater's face and the look of unadulterated anguish and pain on Remus's imprinted itself in Harry's mind. It stayed like this for at least 10 seconds, maybe a minute, maybe an hour. Harry's jaw dropped in his immobilized state, but he shook it off as his determination returned. He had to remember why he was doing this, just _who _he was doing it for.

"_Stupefy!"_

The laughing suddenly stopped as the offender fell to the ground, a look of great confusion on his face. Satisfaction enveloped him as he restrained himself from whooping in joy. One down. Remus looked up uneasily at him from his position on the ground.

199 more to go.

Harry crouched down to be able to tend to a seriously injured Remus. They had him under the curse for a good 20 seconds, and there was no deity in the world that could convince him that he did not maintain a portion of the guilt for not helping until the werewolf was extremely hurt.

"Remus, are you okay?"

The question sounded dumb to his own ears as Remus winced in pain before slowly shaking his head in the negative. He looked horrible, and judging by his facial expressions as he lay there on the ground, Harry doubted he could hardly move. If the last marauder died today...

"Ready to die?"

The Death Eater had come from practically nowhere. The question uttered from his smirking face was calm, as if he was asking the two out for a cup of their favorite kind of tea. Harry looked around, noticing the carnage and havoc that had been inflicted in such a short amount of time. Or was the time that short? Time seemed to be a lost element to the boy.

The storefronts made steady platforms for the dancing flames, children and adults alike lay motionless on the ground; Harry had to close his eyes away from the horror. Harry was ready to face his inevitable death at the hands of the grinning Death Eater standing in front of him, who didn't move as if he was awaiting their reply. Remus looked too weak to talk, and it pained him to see the only Order member he had felt a connection with appear so damaged. Dumbledore and his crew would have to be on their way, he hoped grudgingly, since they had to hear the screams, and must have left the reading of the will.

"_Expelliarmus!" _The Death Eater dodged the injured Remus's curse easily, shooting a sickly orange curse back towards Harry that the young man didn't catch. The frustrated teen wanted to cry as he dived out of the way, right into another curse that broke all the bones in his right arm, his wand arm. They had surrounded him and Remus, after only 1 Death Eater, just _one_, was unconscious, who had been quickly revived. The stunning spell, the disarming spell, and a post-Cruciatus werewolf could only do so much.

"_Crucio."_

For the second time in his life, his bones were on fire as he experienced the ultimate pain. He didn't understand that he had collapsed, that Remus had fallen with him by the effects of another, unknown curse, that his scar, his identity, was blatantly showing, nor that he was writhing quite painfully on the ground. Nothing truly affected him but that void of pain that crushed his insides and burned his exterior.

Death sure seemed quite appealing to him right now.

Suddenly the pain was lifted. He looked up blearily, barely noticing the huge black and green Runespoor sinking its daunting fangs into the Death Eater's flesh. Gone was the baby snake, and in its place was a beast nearly of a 20 feet stature. Remus was lying motionless on the ground next to him, so instead of rooting Hailey on, he rolled over to Remus while their attackers were distracted. He shook him but got no response. He didn't see what curse Remus was hit with, but he hoped with all his might that it wasn't _that _one. He checked his pulse before checking his own tears before they could fall from his luminous eyes.

Remus was alive

Harry lay there, immobilized with relief, before half-heartedly refocusing his attention on Hailey, one head busy biting the neck of her 10th Death Eater while the other two heads handled the 11th and 12th. '_How could I have let Remus, my very, very last connection with my parents, almost die, right there point blank in front of my face?' _He thought miserably. His assumptions that he would even stand a chance against Death Eaters had almost cost another life, just as it did Sirius. He knew it was his fault, because barely 15 minutes ago in the alley Remus had suggested they go home. And Harry staunchly refused, only to land in the middle of a Death Eater attack where they were sure to die. Hailey, his pet snake for Merlin's sake, could only do so much to help him in this time of need. The vow he had made only tonight was on the verge of being broken. Harry tried to refocus his hazy attention on his last ditch effort of surviving.

After dodging a nasty-looking purple curse, Hailey slithered backwards, before abruptly stopping. What occurred next made it a miracle that Harry didn't slump over instantly in a dead faint.

Slowly, she ceased from being a reptile in order to gain control over limbs and other bodily functions. Shocked underestimated what the wounded teen was feeling as his newly purchased snake developed into a human being. Long, flowing, raven black hair fell gracefully to her shoulders, framing a thin pale face. She was wearing elegant robes of green that fitted her perfectly. The sparkling emeralds that were her eyes stayed true despite her transformation, and were currently being shielded by trendy glasses.

Glasses! That was what the strange circling around his snake's eyes was!

But the most peculiar thing was, Harry couldn't help but agree with the thought that if he was a girl, she would be _exactly_ what he would look like. And she was pretty too; Her body was toned awesomely, like she had been exercising day and night since infancy. Where the hell did this goddess come from? Presently, a determined grimace was her expression as she turned to her awestruck master.

"Harry, we have to go now!"

Not sure if he maintained control over his mouth, Harry only nodded dumbly. Suddenly, she raised her hands, pocketing her wand momentarily, and closed her eyes, a deep look of concentration as her expression. Pure, white energy poured out of her palms, causing him to shield his eyes. Opening them back up, he found he along with his savior was immune to the effect, but the Death Eaters were blinded. Taking advantage of the momentarily distracted attackers, she summoned a nearby wizard's hat that had fell right off a victims head, and whispered some uncaught words before tapping it with her wand, which was in her hand as soon as she transformed. She was extremely powerful, and reluctantly he thanked Dumbledore for his assistance. He knew it had to be his doing, but this was extravagant, as Harry was sure her powers superceded Dumbledore's and possibly even Voldemorts. She ran towards the dumbstruck teen before gripping his shoulder tightly. Noticing finally what his savior had just done, he gripped his purchases tightly.

"One, two, three..."

The couple disappeared amidst the firing of curses (from wands and mouths), The Order of the Phoenix's late arrival, Dumbledore's glare towards the retreating Harry, but most prominently, amidst Harry's evident confusion.

-

Pain.

It was obvious that his savior wasn't efficient at creating portkeys, as he'd just slammed his head full force into an unidentified object. Biting back the yowl that was the reaction of the excruciating ache his head was enduring, he realized his head wasn't the only thing that ached so horribly.

It was his heart.

How could he let Remus nearly die, right in front of him? He could almost feel Sirius' and his parent's glares from the heavens above. Was he destined to murder everyone around him systematically? Or was it going to happen randomly, unpredictable like the messy hair that lay atop his head? The arms of despair and sorrow threatened to sweep him up in their tight embrace as he checked the sobs that desired to be let out.

He looked up to check his surroundings. From the looks of things, it looked like he was back in his bedroom. Well, at least the mystery of the pretty, no fantastically pretty girl that was his pet snake was accurate with her destinations. As he reflected, his mind kept coming back to her raven locks or her emerald eyes; she was a goddess. The unmade, crumpled up bed sheets screamed familiarity, as did the open blinds and the disheveled contents of his desk. Looking, standing over him firmly, was the most handsome man he had ever seen in his life. Not that he played for the other team or anything, no, not at all, but Harry wasn't blind.

The interloper's cerulean wizarding robes hugged his muscular physique quite fittingly, Harry enviously noted, but his well-toned figure was only a small piece of the pie. His shoulder-length midnight-black hair was messy, but in a way as if this was purposefully done. The jealous young man also couldn't help but notice the handsome highlights of his face even when he seemed to be highly irritated.

Besides his looks, Harry could tell his power was quite great also, if the almost palpable waves of strength rolling off of him were any indication. Actually, he couldn't remember even sensing this kind of power except when in the presence of his Headmaster or his nemesis, Lord Voldemort. The emeralds that served as his eyes glinted-

"...listening, or do you prefer to just ogle me senseless? Merlin, man, I know I am gorgeous, but show some restraint!" The trespasser scolded impatiently, an arrogant smirk playing on his handsome features, his cold emerald eyes boring into Harry's own embarrassed pair. Despite his humiliation, Harry finally noticed the 3 other individuals(his heroin included, who had positioned herself on Harry's bed) seated casually inside his room, looks of resignation from the main interloper's cockiness.

But something about them was peculiar...Then it clicked.

They were all mirror images of one Harry Potter.


	5. The Potters

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter 5

Harry's eyes widened and his jaw dropped unabashedly in an open display of astonishment. The hair lengths varied, but Harry could easily see the similarities between himself and these...imposters. The now suspicious young man narrowed his eyes at the multitude of his mother's green eyes, his father's messy jet-black hair, and most exclusively, his own lightening bolt scar. But to his chagrin, the jealous teen couldn't help but notice they were all... well, more handsome than him. Harry voiced his confusion to the person who rescued him, the pretty young witch, or more commonly known his pet snake Hailey.

"Who in the hell are all of you? Do you work for Dumbledore?" His voice tinged with the slightest spot of suspicion. Despite this, they didn't get offended or defensive. They laughed.

They _laughed, _as if four people who look exactly like you showed up in bedrooms across Britain all the time. They laughed, Harry noted as his anger grew, as if Harry was in the wrong for not expecting _them_.

"What is so damn funny?"

Through tears of mirth, a Harry clothed in form-fitting emerald robe ('where did they shop at?' Harry thought jealously) with clear contacts and spiked up hair (that Harry vowed to try one day) found himself enough to answer the question. At this point, the rest sobered up, as if remembering the important reason that they all came here for was not to laugh at the mystified boy.

"Harry, before I begin, may I ask you one question?" He began again after Harry's nod. "Is Lord Voldemort still a menace in your..."

Harry had spaced out after only a few words into his inquiry; he considered his words, pondered the many examples he could easily draw off the top of his head. Is murdering several innocents a night menacing? Is taking a boy's life away, listing him off as only a _spare _menacing? Is taking the light out of child's very existence menacing? It didn't take Harry long to answer in the affirmative to his double.

"Ok, I thought so. As I'm sure you've realized, no, maybe not, after the questions you asked," Harry glared at Hailey who dared to let loose a snicker. "But we are all Harry Potter. (Hailey cleared her throat loudly) Or Hailey Potter, in her case." James, as Harry had dubbed him, rolled his eyes at her antics. "The Voldemort of my time has an invention that transcends realities. I," Here he reached and took out a pendent that hung loosely from around his neck. On the charm, a glittering platinum serpent sunk one large fang into it's own tail, representing an eternal loop. "managed to steal an underdeveloped version that allows us transcend the realities but not exactly where we want it to go, unlike Riddle's. Now-"

A resounding thud sounded as one shocked teen slumped on the ground in a dead faint, completely flabbergasted. The reality crossers heaved identical sighs before scratching respective raven locks. James' words summed all their feelings up:

"This is going to be a long night."

-

He was being shaken roughly from his position on the floor.

Already awoken, he opened his tired eyes to allow his bleary vision to focus. A sleek mane of sunburned-brown hair positioned itself over him before signaling across the room.

He barely caught her quiet whisper. "Ron, he's awake, go get Ginny!"

Instantly he knew who she was. He abruptly sat up, as if her identification had instantly revitalized his energy. He pushed himself up off the ground, stood and observed his surroundings. An overcast high-ceiling room greeted his unfocused vision, and soon he saw all the confirmation he needed to clarify his location: The twin beds.

He was back at Grimmauld Place. He was back at _his_ home.

He didn't bother to greet Hermione before leaving the room, his ears oblivious to her pleas for him to stop. He entered the familiar dingy hallways that _he _despised, observed the portraits _he_ reviled, and the whole scenery _he _so detested. He burst into the nearest door, slamming it behind him in a heated expression of pure emotion, not realizing the door opened on it's own accord, a testament to his power.

A small and grimy bathroom greeted him as he ventured inside; A grubby sink, disgusting toilet, and shower stall seemed to be the only things in the interior, making it appear to be more of a broom closet than a lavatory. The paint on the walls was peeling, increasing the ancient feel of his godfather's old home. Approaching and gripping the sides of the sink, causing his knuckles to turn white, he glared hard at the image in the mirror, as if it could relieve him of the grief he felt by being in this house.

And he gasped.

He nearly lost as his balance as he gazed at the clearly incorrect image. He wore the same dingy clothes he had on for the past week (his hygiene hadn't been the best this summer) but it wasn't baggy or loose fitting. In fact, it looked rather snug now on this stranger Harry saw in his reflection. It couldn't be himself. He didn't have biceps bulging out of his arm, clear and evident cuts defining his physique, and Merlin forbid several pounds that was nothing but pure muscle. His hair was tamed, almost like it elegantly rolled down to his shoulders instead of appearing like it was ungracefully collapsing down to his back like it had for the past two weeks. Abruptly, cutting off his thoughts, his vision hazed up. He was as blind as a bat, and the obviously incorrect scene disappeared right from under his eyes. Hesitantly, he removed his spectacles. As if by a miracle, he once again observed the image of a handsome, muscular, and non-spectacled man staring back at him, confusion and amazement shown clearly in his vivid green eyes. This could not be true!

Of course not; however, his reflection could not lie, but this seemed too amazing to be accurate.

And the power he felt! It was great; he felt like he could command the seven seas, as if every ounce of magic was at his very whim. He felt like he had just woke up from an extremely deep slumber, like he was blind but now he could see a vivid world before him! He now _knew _magic, not the silly wand-waving and parlor tricks he was doing before, but _magic!_

All of a sudden, A throbbing headache basically smacked him upside his head. The intense pain caused him to fall to his knees in agony, his anguish causing him to barely check the moan of discomfort that pleaded to be released.

Suddenly, from his kneeling position, he got a clear image of the peculiar dream (it had to be a dream) he had after he had returned from Diagon Alley. An arrogant version of himself standing-

**_I am not arrogant, you git! There is a clear line between conceit and confidence._** A strong, masculine tone reverberated inside..._his head? _What was going on?

**_And you, you git, certainly have crossed it. _**This time it was feminine, again making him undergo the resounding sensation inside his mind. Her voice was familiar, and by recollecting, he finally placed it from the dream-girl that looked exactly like him that had rescued him from Diagon Alley.

'What is going on?' The pain returned despite the distraction Harry had encountered, and Harry cupped his face inside his hands. His head felt like it was going to split right open just by the sheer pain of the experience. Abruptly, random memories played through his head. Not particularly significant, the clips replayed events as him sitting inside his cupboard as a young boy, all the way up to him doing an essay assignment for Charms last year.

Was he going to die in a grimy bathroom by forces and for reasons unknown?

A releasing sensation suddenly overwhelmed him, and the pain was gone instantaneously, a feeling he felt eternally grateful to. He opened eyes he hadn't realized he had closed during his pain session, and nearly fell on his bum from pure shock at what stood in front of him.

The arrogant version of himself stood imperiously before him, outfitted in the same majestic robes that adorned him in the..._dream?_ How could it be a dream if the dream literally stood before him? Behind him stood the girl-counterpart, Hailey, and James, the other dubbed Harry counterpart. He really had to find a name for his other version of himself-

"You are weak." the said counterpart's silky drawl cut through his thoughts easily, as random insults had always done in the past by Malfoy, Snape, and his relatives. But this was a shock, as the jibe was coming from..._himself_? Was he really that weak? Harry looked at his other's blank expression, searching for some kind of inkling that would lead to his answer.

"You only barely held the Combined Force for even a mere...seven minutes and fifty-two seconds." He snarled distastefully. "You disgust me. You let me flick through your memories and personal thoughts too easily. I'm just surprised that Voldemort hasn't already murdered you yet."

Hailey looked annoyed as she lightly punched Potter (Ah, finally stumbled upon a name unconsciously) in the arm in an indication for him to lighten up. He gave her an irritated grimace, before turning back to his victim. During this exchange, Harry noticed the girl version of himself again. Gone was the visage of beauty he spied at Diagon Ally, replaced by a normal girl, good-looking, but normal nonetheless. Harry concluded that the form she took to rescue him was her when she embodied the two other Harry Potters (Boy, that sounded _so_ weird), which also explained her bit of wandless magic that blinded the Death Eaters.

"Combined Force?"

"As we are the same people, we can morph into one counterpart." Harry drank in Potter's patient and informative explanation with an eager thirst that was completely foreign to his customarily lethargic nature. "We will be able to speak to each other telepathically inside the 'host's' head. To gather the counterparts up, either they will themselves into you or you will them into yourself. We call this the Combined Force because it is our Combined Force. As you grow stronger, you will be able to maintain the Combined Force with simpler effort until you can hold it indefinitely. So if-."

His explanation was curtailed as a loud thumping noise repeatedly sounded at the door. Looking towards the disturbance, it appeared as if somebody was attempting to force his or her way in by continually ramming the entrance with brute force.

Suddenly, Potter spread his arms wide, and Harry felt a sucking sensation as he was pulled, or willed in Potter's words, into him. The sensation ran through him creepily, slithering up his limbs like a snake, and Harry felt as if the temperature had dropped significantly. His vision darkened as he was sucking into Potter's conscious, until it refocused as he viewed life through Potter's eyes.

Potter was in control now, so this explained the reason that the 'Combined Force' (They really should think of better names) did not flinch when Harry's subconsciously did when the doors banged open. The power came back, at a lower scale, of course, and Harry felt the waves of strength at a different perspective. Looking through Potter's eyes he was not surprised at what sight greeted him. Standing before him was flustered Ron Weasley, obviously tired from breaking the door down without the aid of magic, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley.

Potter gazed at them with a cold characteristic in his eyes not common to the regular Harry's inviting emeralds. Harry, deep inside Potter's conscious, saw a brief clip of what he assumed was a memory as Potter registered the individuals barging into their impromptu sanctuary. In the reverie, Malfoy was hanging Ron upside down by wand, while Potter himself was holding an indignant Lavender Brown at wand-point.

Malfoy? Potter was an unpleasant guy but he didn't rank him up there with the Malfoy Heir.

Another clip flashed as he saw Hermione sitting in a secluded corner of the library, her lonely eyes staring unseeingly and not really reading the book in front of her nose. He was snapped back to reality by Ginny and Hermione's simultaneous gasps.

Potter smirked casually at their bewilderment. "Like what you see, ladies?" He raised his eyebrow inquiringly before settling into a smirk at their blushes. Harry then realized his appearance must be startling, as they most likely were expecting the undernourished boy they knew and loved. Ron's jaw was on the floor, and Harry was starting to doubt his sexuality.

****

What team does he _play for, Harry?_

he 

Potter had to stifle his laughter to maintain the Combined Force's impassive expression.

"Blimey Harry, what the hell have you been doing these past two weeks!" His exclamation caused Ginny and Hermione's blushes to intensify tenfold.

-

A/N: Another special thanks to Cygnus Crux!


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